


Fight Like Cat & Dog

by Rigel99



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Post-SPECTRE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-07-19 05:35:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7347232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rigel99/pseuds/Rigel99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Bond has driven off into the London Skyline with Madeleine Swann leaving the remnants of MI6 behind and Gareth Mallory and his team to clean up the mess of a post-Spectre world. Let's hope he's up to the challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As a dedicated 00Q shipper (which I have not abandoned!), I feel it necessary to write that, if you are not into the idea of MallQry, then this story is probably not for you. If, like me however, you like to stretch your sensibilities and just see where these things go, hop on! 
> 
> Silent Spectres will likely be the final instalment of the To Be A Quartermaster series, which will be finished by mid July, then I'm looking forward to Chestnut_Nola and Co's 00Q Reverse Big Bang later that month.
> 
> This story is inspired by exchanges on Facebook with the fandom. I want to blame them, but I really can't.

Q isn’t sure how it started. Well, actually no, he knows full well how they got here, sitting across from each other, challenging, goading and testing one another. Gareth Mallory’s keen intellectualism was a welcome diversion from his Q Branch duties. Despite his complete devotion to his vocation, Q was under no illusion about the threat of burnout in his line of work so welcomed such distractions on the rare occasion they presented themselves.

He watched Mallory’s fingers drum absent-mindedly on the mahogany of his expansive desk. Decadent. The thought of his superior being equally so, briefly flitted through his mind but Q chastised himself for the notion. He knew nothing of the man bar the intellectual repartee they shared when circumstances permitted.

“Check.”

Q was pulled from his musings abruptly, realising he had unusually allowed his contemplations to wander from the task at hand. He refocussed on the chessboard between them, while M leaned back against his chair doing his best not to look smug. Q stepped onto the board laid out in his mind and quickly calculated his opponent was only three moves away from pinning his Quartermaster into an inescapable corner.

Q however, was nothing if not equally as intellectually resourceful himself and just on the verge of seeing a way through, his phone beeped.

Q stood. “Excuse me, Sir. Q Branch needs me. I hope we can resume the game same time next week?”

M stood and slid his hands into his pockets, tilting his head smoothly forward in the affirmative. “Of course, Quartermaster. Don’t let me keep you. Though could we perhaps make it a little later in the evening?”

“Of course, Sir.”

Q took his leave and exited Mallory’s office, tossing Moneypenny a small, fond smile on his way through the anteroom. Mallory carefully lifted the chessboard and set it on the small table in the corner by his window. He leaned back into the large leather-bound seat behind his desk and took one last lingering look at the position of the pieces before turning his attention to the latest world events flitting across the tablet screen on his desk.

* * *

**5 weeks previously…**

Q stood at the entrance to his lab and watched 007 climb into the Aston Martin. He never could say no to the Agent. He had suffered and sacrificed so much, so much beyond the comprehension of the young boffin. Such understanding did nothing to ease the pang in his chest as Bond threw him a parting smile of gratitude before screeching down the corridor towards the lab’s underground exit. Q smiled depreciatingly and sighed. His breath was deep and resigned when he turned back to the parts strewn across his workbench.

Alan, evidently sensing the coast was clear, hopped up onto the bench seeking attention and reassurance that the metal monster would not be returning. “You never know with 007, Alan,” whispered Q, bundling the ball of fur into his welcome arms and breathing into his neck. “He’s a living, breathing embodiment of every contradiction in existence.” He placed the cat in his basket and sat down, sketching out the plans for a new improved replacement of the Aston.

* * *

**Five days later…**

“It’s certainly quieter without him around…”

“And you must be saving a fortune on equipment that you can use for future Q Branch projects,” said Moneypenny with a cheery smile. Sentimentality was not an affliction from which M’s right hand girl suffered. A good stint in the field will do that to a former agent.

Q laughed. “Well that’s certainly true. I’ll be the flavour of the budgetary committee’s month during the next round of funding requests.”

They were in Q’s office, Alan weaving his way in that seductively sleek manner to which cats are prone between and around Moneypenny’s slender, stockinged calves.

“So to what do I owe the pleasure, Miss Moneypenny? You don’t often grace the less-than-modest confines of Q Branch.”

Moneypenny, it seemed, was in the mood to be frank. A rare treat in one embroiled in the world of espionage. “If I’m honest, I’m missing him myself. I was hoping you’d like to grab a drink after work so we could regale each other with tales of the mischief and mayhem of one mutually acquainted former agent.” She folded her arms and casually jutted out the curve of her hip. “I don’t think I ever did tell you the full details of what happened in Istanbul…”

Q had to force his mouth not to drop open. “Istanbul? I thought— Macau?”

“Oh this wasn’t with Bond.” She leaned closer towards him across his desk and Q mirrored the move, fellow conspirators in kind. “He wasn’t the only one forced to put out for Queen and Country you know,” her eyes sparkling.

“Why, Miss Moneypenny, I do declare!” whispered Q, feigning the look and tone of one completely scandalised by such behaviour.

She straightened up again, recomposing herself with that uncanny flick-switch response she was continuously honing to perfection.

“So. Drinks later?” she enquired in a clipped tone.

Q smiled and nodded. “It would be a pleasure.”

* * *

The Morpeth Arms was an infrequently used haunt of MI6 staff situated opposite River House. It didn’t do to converge en masse on the place and they never did so in large groups. But it was Tuesday evening and it was relatively quiet. Q and Moneypenny entered the establishment just before 8pm. Moneypenny glanced around, her instinctive MO, and as Q stepped up beside her towards the bar, that was when they both clocked the broad shoulders encased in a blue pinstripe waistcoat ordering drinks at that same bar. As he turned and headed towards a booth in which two other men were sitting, he made no indication nor acknowledgement of his staff. They did him the same courtesy, ignoring each other completely.

Drinks orders they sat in one of the few available booths which, much to Q’s chagrin, was within the line of sight of M’s position. He shifted uncomfortably before taking a sip of his beer. Moneypenny being Moneypenny of course, instantly picked up on the disquiet.

“Surely you’re not bothered by M’s presence?”

The question caused Q to involuntarily glance in the man’s direction who it just so happened was bestowing his own unreadable look at the Quartermaster while his companions sitting opposite exchanged words. Q was by no means easily intimidated. He was the genius behind the inventions and security of MI6 for fuck’s sake, but there was something about the eyes of Gareth Mallory when pinpoint focussed in your direction that were quite unsettling. He quickly looked back at his companion and smiled. “I have a meeting with him tomorrow,” Q took a breath and smoothed his hand down his cardigan focussing on his inner composure. “He wants to discuss the “disappearance” of the Aston Martin…”

Moneypenny couldn’t help but laugh. “You mean the one you practically handed to Bond on a silver platter? Good luck with that.”

“Your sympathies for my plight will be well remembered, Moneypenny,” he intoned rancourously. Moneypenny merely presented the palms of her hands in mock submission. “I’m sure you’ll think of something to appease our glorious leader.”

“Maybe I should just resign before he fires me.”

Eve scoffed into her own drink. “You’re the best thing to have happened to MI6 in an age. Cars are easily replaced. Quartermasters less so.”

Q glanced over again. Director and Quartermaster caught each other’s eye. Again. Q buried his nose in his beer. _Good God,_ he thought to himself while Moneypenny launched into recounting the events in Istanbul, _I am in so much trouble…_


	2. Chapter 2

**The Next Day, M’s Office**

M leaned forward, giving his Quartermaster his full, undivided and unnerving attention. “Tell me Q. What am I to do when one of my department heads hands over a £500,000 piece of government property to an agent? A former agent I might add?”

Q was standing in front of M’s desk, not quite sure if that was a loaded question. And whether he should answer it or not.

He also wasn’t quite sure what the hell possessed the next words to exit his giant, flapping gob. Later, he considered that he may have been invoking the echoing remnants of Bond’s conversations once held within the padded walls. 007 got under everyone’s skin. It should hardly be a surprise that inanimate objects were affected too. “You’re right, Sir. I should have gotten a receipt…”

M reached for his glasses and slowly slipped them from his nose. If Q’s stomach dive-bombed to his feet, through the floor and ended up curled in a ball next to Alan in his cat basket, he didn’t let it show.

“Seeing as you failed so spectacularly in that respect, Quartermaster, perhaps I should dock the cost from your salary.” Q calculated his best option under the circumstances was to throw himself at the mercy of the man.

“I wouldn’t blame you Sir, though if you could see your way fit to reserving enough in the remainder of my monthly stipend to cover mortgage, cat food and Earl Grey, I might just be able to scrape by.”

M sighed the sigh of a put-upon soul that might prefer to be raising goats somewhere on the coast of Wales. “What I really don’t understand is why everyone is so bloody sentimental about the man,” Mallory’s tone was caught between a grumble and disbelief.

“I appreciate he wasn’t under your command as long as the previous M, Sir. But in the time, we served together, I’d be happy to state categorically that his departure will be an unquantifiable loss to the service.”

M raised an eyebrow. “Along with all your equipment and tech he lost along the way, you suppose.” Q bit his tongue. No one could be more annoyed with Bond than Q about that, but the agent still got the job done. M continued. “Be that as it may, Q, it is up to us to ensure that said loss does not impact at all on business as usual,” M replied curtly.

“Now,” he said, slipping on his glasses again, and leaning forward to pore over what Q could tell from his vantage point to be a set of consolidated accounts for the last year to the present month. “Speaking of lost, damaged and destroyed…” he said, turning the pages of the document while eyeing Q over the rim of his glasses, “I notice a distinct downturn in your financial requests since Bond’s departure. And in doing so, you have recouped nearly half the cost of the Aston.” Q opted for silence, which apparently in this instance was the right option to take. M removed his glasses again and leaned back in his chair. His expression was thoughtful but otherwise unreadable. _Dammit,_ thought Q, _I’m never going to get one step ahead of this man._ “I can only admire your resourcefulness, Q. You are a credit to MI6, and I know you will continue to be such.”

 _That’s it? No reprimand? No permanent mark on his personnel record?_ For once in his life, Q was grateful to be out-manoeuvred. He decided not to look a gift superior in the mouth.

There was one thing he did know about military servicemen. They weren’t given over to false modesty. “Will that be all, Sir?”

“Dismissed,” M replied without a second glance,though Q felt his neck prickle warm from the gaze he was sure the man was had trained upon him as he exited the office and shut the door quietly behind him.

Moneypenny was smiling innocently in her outer domain. Q let out the breath he had been holding, which had transformed from tentatively concerned about his promising career in espionage to annoyed with his Superior’s PA. He strolled over to her desk and gave her his best withering look. “You knew.”

“Of course I knew,” she said, all cocky nonchalance. “But until you prove you’re as good a liar as 007, I’m not telling you anything that might give the game away. You’ve got enough on your mind as is, boffin.” She was practically grinning through her little speech.

Q rolled his eyes, which landed in the corner of the room where a chessboard sat in mid-game. His eyes narrowed. “You? Play chess?”

Moneypenny tossed a look over her shoulder. “Oh that. No, not me. Bond and Mallory.” Q’s arched brow was question enough. Moneypenny merely shrugged. “Manly men and their inexplicabe oneupmanship ways,” she replied. “That game was the best of three. I don’t think M has the heart to clear it away just yet.” Her phone chirped. Q walked over to the board while Moneypenny took the call. He studied the setup for all but 5 seconds before making his decision.

He stepped around the desk while she still chatted away and rolled his fingers by way of a goodbye. She nodded with a smile.

Thirty seconds later, she hung up the call and made a note in M’s diary. She glanced over at the board, but as she hadn’t observed the position of the pieces before Q’s intervention, why would she notice that one of the white pawns had advanced on M’s Knight…

* * *

  **Four months previously, the Mallory Residence. Two weeks after Skyfall and the evening of Olivia Mansfield’s funeral.**

“I’m sorry, Gareth. We’ve done this long enough. It’s time for me to take the time I have left and spend it for myself.”

Mallory reached out and touched his wife’s cheek. “But we did this for us, for family. Isn’t that enough?”

“It was. But enough _is_ enough,” she said, gently taking his hand in hers. “Our children are grown and you are at the pinnacle of your career. Head of MI6. It’s what you always wanted…”

“But I wanted you there to share it with me.” The words were sincere but sounded hollow somehow. He knew. Deeply buried feelings were swimming to the surface of their lives. They both knew.

“We’ve shared enough,” she said, her voice a mixture of melancholy and relief. Mallory could hardly blame her. They had forged an alliance to protect each other. It had worked, but they both knew the time had come to move on. “Time to let go.”

Yvonne Mallory smiled, almost a sympathetic look on her features. “No better time to change when it’s all change, Gareth. Embrace your job. Do what you do best. MI6 is your family now.” She leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead and stood, walking away for the first, and last, time.

Gareth Mallory was a man who knew how to let go. He was no sentimentalist. He picked up the remote and hit play. Closing his eyes, he planned the week ahead. It never did a man any good to live in the past.


	3. Chapter 3

_Internal Memo: FYEO All MI6 Department Heads_

_Reminder: To those of you who may have “forgotten” or “who’s cat/dog/tortoise may have eaten their invite,” be advised that your attendance at this Thursday evening’s reopening of the refurbished MI6 HQ is not a request. The Minister for Justice will be there so best foot forward. Your attendance is mandatory. If I must attend, so must each of you._

_On pain of death,_

_Gareth Mallory._

_PS Plus ones are encouraged to dissipate the stuffiness of the occasion._

Q closed the email message and could only rest his forehead on his desk and groan.

_KNOCK KNOCK!_

The distinctive sound of Moneypenny’s sharp and shapely knuckles didn’t cause Q to raise his head, though he did grant her access to his inner sanctum. “Come in!”

“Ah,” she said. “Got the memo then?” she said, all too familiar with Q’s lacklustre feelings on grandiose, tuxedo-clad events.

“Be my plus one?” he queried looking up at her then, framed eyes pleading hopefully.

“No can do, my fair Quartermaster. M pipped you at the post for that privilege.” She sighed. “His divorce came through this week so he’s a lone gunman once again.”

Q looked a little dumbstruck at the information. “Should you even be telling me that?”

“Consider it a test of my faith in you not to abuse the information for your own unwieldy gains,” she said, propping a thigh on the corner of his desk, much like Bond would have done.

Q huffed at the insinuation that he would be anything less than the model of discretion. “Hardly.”

Moneypenny smiled. “Besides. You know this _is_ the 21 st century Q, and the Military Intelligence Services are spearheading recruitment of LGBTQ persons. Or I should say, such things are not an issue in a person qualified to do the job.”

She took his chin in her hand and levelled her best Moneypenny look-of-stern at him. “Bring a plus one you want to bring. Not one that panders to society’s warped perceptions of reality.”

“Yes, Miss Moneypenny.”

She gave a curt nod. “That’s more like it, Quartermaster.” She released him and gave him a little pat on the cheek. She looked down around her feet. “Now. Where’s my cup of tea and customary cuddle from your furball….?”

* * *

**Thursday evening 8pm, MI6 Conference Room**

“Thank you for doing this, Miss Moneypenny.”

Moneypenny laid a gentle hand on Mallory’s forearm. “You’ve thanked me twice already and while I don’t want you to think I’m encouraging any informalities between the Head of MI6 and his PA, you should call me Eve. At least in this semi-social scenario, M.”

He conceded. “Very well. Eve.”

They stood together in the centre of the room, for while M wasn’t much of a one for these things himself, he accepted that it was his responsibility to maintain a high level of visibility for the duration of the evening. Needless to say, such visibility lends itself to being cornered by all manner of dignitaries and the like. M was nothing less than the quintessential host that was required of him. He was just launching into the benefits of streamlining the bureaucracy of the decision-making process with the Justice Minister and one of the senior bodies of the CIA for whom a trip to London happened to coincide with the event when Moneypenny excused herself under the guise of grabbing them a couple of more drinks. M noted however, her route was more towards the room’s entrance. He glanced over the shoulders of the men in front of him to see her accost the Quartermaster, who was being helped slip out of his wool coat by his… companion.

Of course, Mallory knew Q was gay. But…

Q was looking furtively around the room while his companion had laid a reassuring hand on the small of his back and he leaned over to hear something whispered by Eve in his ear. Moneypenny glanced in M’s direction who immediately took the initiative and beckoned the trio over.

“Gentlemen, so sorry to interrupt but there is someone I’d very much like you to meet…” M rumbled through a depreciating smile. M noted Q’s companion had drifted off, no doubt to procure some drinks for them. M had witnessed such a move many times before. _Not a permanent fixture then. A professional escort._

Moneypenny had him by the arm as the men turned for introductions. “May I present our next generation Quartermaster,” said M, as Q extended a hand, pumped firmly by the Justice Minister and taken with a much more measured degree of care by the CIA agent. “I was hoping you’d regale these gentlemen with some of the latest inventive gadgetry soon to be gracing the field, Q.”

“Of course, M,” Q replied and while M noted the smile was slightly strained, he could see Q appreciated at least being put in a position where he was conversationally competent by his superior.

M listened politely for a few minutes before drifting off to mingle and stood nearby keeping the Quartermaster in his peripheral vision. M vaguely observed that Q’s companion for the evening was quite reminiscent of a certain former Double O…

It was an hour later when he regrouped with Moneypenny and just before the official speech by the Justice Minister. M glanced around and caught sight of Q, sipping from a flute of champagne and giggling at something his date for the evening had said. Moneypenny couldn’t help but comment on his noticeable distraction.

“Surely you knew…?” she murmured, looking at Q herself just as M glanced her direction.

“Of course I know, Eve. This is the 21st century and while I may be old I’m no backward-thinking, fuddy duddy regressive.” Moneypenny smiled. The man could even sound smooth when he was being a little huffy with her.

 _Knowing it from his file and seeing it in the flesh so to speak? Was an entirely different matter,_ M thought to himself, though didn’t verbally give life to that observation.

“Excuse me, Eve.”

“Of course, M,” she replied, as he turned to relieve himself before what would no doubt be a long-winded speech. He entered the gents and took a cubicle to compose himself with a moments respite. The door opened thirty seconds later and it was only mere moments after that, in which M realised who the occupants were when a second set of footsteps followed and the voice to whom they belonged spoke.

“I really would like to take you home. No extra charge. It would certainly be no hardship to end the evening with you writhing beneath me…” Q’s date was seduction personified.

“That won’t be necessary.”

M couldn’t help the small smile at the curt but cool response from Q.

“Are you sure?” _Persistent fellow,_ M thought to himself, though he could hardly blame the man. He may be his superior but M wasn’t blind.

“Quite,” said Q. M heard a quick shuffle of feet and a trouser zipper being quickly pulled up, as though Q had to dodge an unwelcome physical advance. He was poised to make his presence known when Q spoke. “We are both professionals. I expect you to behave as such.” There was a pause and a few steps forward in which M imagined Q was squaring up to the man. _Feisty too it would seem. Always a good quality in our line of work._

“You’ve been paid for your services and extra to cover a taxi. I think you should leave.”

Of course, these particular businesses were fully vetted before being used and M knew the man wouldn’t risk besmirching their reputation, but if on the off chance he did… His fingers hovered over the door latch.

“Very well,” came the equally cool response. “I’ll see myself out.”

“Do that.”

The door slammed and M heard Q let out a long exhale. “For fuck’s sake, who do these people think they are?” he grumbled to his reflection. He straightened his jacket and tie. “For once it would be nice to be cornered by man who didn’t think cock was the alpha and the omega of every sodding encounter in the gay community…”

He washed his hands and exited the restroom. M waited a minute more before leaving himself and rejoining Moneypenny. The next twenty minutes were boring as hell, but at least it took his mind off _other_ things.

* * *

“Thank God that’s over,” grumbled Q.

The gathering was dissipating and Moneypenny and Q were standing at the cloakroom while he helped her don her coat. “You mean to say you didn’t have fun?” she teased, buttoning up her rather stylish trench coat. Mind you, the woman would look good in a hessian sack.

“Maybe I’ll swing by my dentist for some molar extractions for comparative purposes,” he retorted sarcastically.

“Ready, Eve?” M, it seemed was well versed in stealth as was any Double O. Q startled ever so slightly.

“Can I offer you a lift home, Quartermaster? As you appear to have been abandoned by your date for the evening.”

Q refrained from pointing out that it was _he_ who had sent _him_ packing, but the slightly amused look in his eye made him suspicious that M already suspected that much. _Bloody spies,_ thought Q, _is nothing sacred?_

“That would be much appreciated, Sir. If it’s not too much trouble I mean.”

“Nonsense. It’s practically on my way. Shall we?”

* * *

It took M’s Chauffeur thirty minutes to pull up to Moneypenny’s abode. She parted with a smile and a wink over her shoulder at Q while M deposited his PA to her front door. Q rolled his eyes. Champagne always made the woman more flirty, even toward those with whom she didn’t stand a chance.

M climbed back into the car. Q shuffled into the far corner.

“So,” he began, “what did you think of our Justice Minister, Quartermaster?” Q had drifted off slightly while M had taken care of Eve and was on the cusp of solving a problem that had occupied half his brain for the evening. In his relaxed state of mind, he briefly forgot where he was and with whom he was currently sharing the back seat of a car. “A bit stuffy, but he’s a politician so hardly a surpr….” He trailed off, risking a glance at M who apparently was giving him a steely-eyed stare whilst doing his best it seemed, to fight back a grin.

“I’m a politician. Of sorts you realise…” he replied, quirking an eyebrow.

Q’s mortified look at his faux pas broke M’s resolve. He released a chuckle, warmed with wine and finally free of the pomp and circumstance of the occasion.

“But you’re absolutely right, Q. Poles up their backsides that could rival the Olympic standard, the lot of them.” Q flopped back with a laugh, the tension ebbing from his body. And for the next twenty minutes they debated and argued on the purpose of the Olympics and the origin of some of the sports that made up the games, meandering and ending somehow on the topic of Greek Philosophy.

Before Q knew it, they were outside his Bayswater home. He thanked M and climbed out of the car. His foot was on the first step leading to his front door when he heard M clear his throat, drawing his attention back to the car, idling by the kerb.

“Oh and Quartermaster?” M rolled down the window a little further and gave him a knowing smile. “I look forward to your next move,” he said cheerily, before tapping the dividing window and signalling the driver.

It took Q a few minutes to move from his spot on the pavement while he was left pondering on what the hell had just happened.


	4. Chapter 4

Alan LOVED Q Branch. It was HIS domain. Well, his and his human’s. Like his human, Alan liked details. Alan could spot a fly at 300 paces on the other side of the bunker. His human could spot a mistyped letter in a continuous stream of code in seconds. Alan could chase down a rogue vermin quicker than the blink of an eye and the flick of a tail. His human could track and pinpoint an enemy agent in an equally impressive space of time. Well, impressive for a human.

Yes, Alan mused to himself, nestled comfortably on the top tier of the shelf against the wall overlooking Q’s work bench, amongst the electronics and random gun parts. Life was good for an MI6 mogster. Alan was a kitty who would lay a paw on his favourite can of salmon and swear on every purr that he’d ever graced upon the world that this was a cold hard feline fact.

It’s a sad fact of the real world, however, that all good things must come to an end.

* * *

Moneypenny practically squealed with delight.

M chastised. “Such sounds are unbecoming in an MI6 employee, Miss Moneypenny.”

“Oh but, Sir. He’s utterly irresistible!”

The puppy wriggled in M’s arms, all lolling tongue and floppy-eared in his eagerness to escape his captor’s arms and lavish some affection on this new person. M finally conceded and put him on the floor. He frowned at the bouncing beast, a labrador-springer cross, dark chocolate coloured fur and all the more unusual for his bright blue eyes.

“He’ll take some training.”

Eve gathered the pup into her arms and snuggled her nose into his neck. The animal yelped happily. Moneypenny gave her boss a warm look. “I’m so glad you got one.”

“Well, I tend to listen to advice when it’s good. Insane, but good nonetheless,” M replied, mock grudgingly. He glanced over at the chessboard. "I see the Quartermaster has popped by." Eve was thoroughly preoccupied with cuddles while M stepped over to survey the battlefield. He advanced his Knight just as Moneypenny piped up.

“No man is truly an island, Sir. Even one who resides on top of the Military Intelligence food chain,” she said nonchalantly, putting the puppy down at her feet. “Sit,” she commanded crisply and pointed her finger down.

The puppy complied. Tail wagging, eager to please. “Well.” M managed. “It seems I’m not the only male in this office who knows what’s good for him.”

“Good thing too,” she said with a pleased smile. She took her seat while the pup roamed the area, nose to the floor. “By the way, your 6pm call with the PM has been postponed until morning, Sir.”

 _A reprieve. Wonderful,_ he thought to himself. “In that case, Miss Moneypenny, consider yourself relieved for the day.”

Moneypenny didn’t need to be told twice. She beamed while shutting down her laptop and standing to reach for her jacket. “Thank you, Sir. See you tomorrow.”

“Well. Winston,” said M, turning towards his inner sanctum, the dog glued to his heels, “looks like it’s just you and me.”

* * *

It took M about 15 minutes trying to catch up on his reading until he realised that the energetic hound would need to work off some of that excess energy if he was to get anything done. He slipped on the collar and lead and headed out for a stroll around the building. In his wanderings, he found himself heading towards Q branch, which he expected to be relatively quiet at this time of the evening. His phone chirped while he strolled along the long corridor that circumvented the perimeter of Q’s lair. He took the call. Focussed on the words of his solicitor, he failed to notice when Winston slipped his slightly loose collar.

“Oh buggering blast!” he huffed as the quick but clumsy animal bounded away from him, through the first open door and between the legs of the first human he encountered exiting the main workspace. M hung up the phone and stepped quickly in pursuit.

* * *

Alan smelled the intruder before he saw him. Hackles raised, he hopped down from his perch and up on the edge of Q’s bench, poised for fight or flight, where his human was busy retrofitting some phones. A few angry flicks of his tail got Q’s attention though.

“What’s up Alan?” It was just then he heard a distinctive canine yelp. Q frowned in confusion. “What the—?”

He rose angrily and marched towards the open plan room where his minions worked, only a half dozen of them set up for the night shift. “Who the bloody hell brought a dog into Q Branch without clearing it with me first? NOT that I would have permit—!” The four-legged intruder crashed into the leg of a table as he rounded a corner and came haring up the aisle between the desks, not that the collision hampered his progress towards Q’s location and ultimately the target on which his nostrils had set its keen senses. The cat was the first exciting thing he’d smelled since he arrived. He was determined to meet this age old nemesis and greet him in that age old way. Head-to-head and may the best furball win.

“WINSTON!”

Too late, Winston spotted his quarry who’s knowledge of the space was far superior to that of the young canine, leading him on a merry chase around the furniture and equipment before parking himself out of reach and eyeing the offending beast with contempt at the intrusion of his territory. Q was equally incredulous, grabbing the pup and lifting him to look him in the eye. “And who the devil might you be?” he asked. He turned to his equally bewildered staff. “By every weapon I’ve ever modified, if I don’t get an answer in the next three seconds as to who this bloody beast belongs to, so help me…!”

Q rounded on his skeleton crew in the same moment M rounded one of the pillars near an entrance to the bullpen. Q’s expression was mighty incredulous and bemused while M was doing his damnedest not to look sheepish. “Apologies, Quartermaster. I believe what you are holding there belongs to me.”

Q looked from the pup _(silly creature)_ to M and back again. He did his best to lighten the mood, not currently being helped by four gawping Q Branchers rubber necking the scene. “Well,” he gently exhaled, walking towards M holding out the animal, “don’t tell me you’ve found 007’s replacement already?”

The fleeting expression of surprise that crossed M’s face was replaced with a stifled chuckle. “Oh this one’s far too well trained to fill Bond’s shoes,” he casually replied. Q was equally delighted with the banter. Truth be told, he missed that aspect of his volatile and thoroughly unpredictable relationship with the former agent. Q handed the squirming lop-eared pup to M with a smile and turned back to his bench barking a firm “back to work you lot! Show’s over!” M was turning to leave when a thought popped into his head. Alan had since jumped down from his vantage point and took comfort in his own human’s arms.

“Quartermaster.”

“Sir?” he replied, glancing at the unruly pup occasionally, waiting him to make another play for his cat, though to be honest, he seemed to have calmed significantly in M’s embrace.

“I was reviewing some stats and figures from Medical regarding the health and safety of Q Branch staff. I’d very much like to go over them with you in person. Put our heads together and see if we can drill down to the facts behind the figures.”

Q frowned. “Nothing serious I hope, Sir?” M smiled. “Well, I’d like us to ensure that that doesn’t become the case. Stay ahead of the curve.” He patted Winston’s head absently, running tomorrow’s schedule through his mind while he did. “Lunch tomorrow? My office. If that is convenient.”

It’s not as though Q could refuse such a request, particularly when the subject of the meeting was the welfare of his own staff. “Of course. Sir. Is noon OK?”

“Thank you, Q,” he replied with a nod and didn’t dilly dally any further. He turned and strolled down the aisle, Winston slung over his shoulder who yelped twice while Alan, rather helpfully, gave a hiss in response throwing in a narrow-eyed stare for good measure at the retreating human and his four-legged irritant.

Instincts. No matter how hard we try, how civilised we pretend we have become, we can never truly escape them.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full chapter now up! Enjoy...

Moneypenny was not at her desk when Q arrived. Granted, he was ten minutes early, intentionally of course, eyeing the chessboard in the corner by the window on entering her domain. Q instantly saw the move Mallory was attempting to instigate; a kind of retreat to lure your unsuspecting opponent into a false sense of dominance before stripping them of all their protection. Q smiled. You’d have to get out of bed bloody early on a Sunday to catch the Quartermaster napping. He looked at his watch. He had time.

* * *

Winston was dozing in his bed in the corner of the room. Mallory had fed him well and between bouts of excitable activity, the pup still had to take time to rest and grow. M had worried he had taken on a project that might prove too much, but as usual, Moneypenny was right. The company was actually helping level his mood and was proving an adequate distraction from the recent changes in his personal circumstances. He rose from his desk, engrossed in the file he was currently perusing, and gently opened his door without lifting his attention from the document. He was about to speak when he noticed, his wiry-framed Quartermaster hovering with his back to him, so engrossed in his study of the chessboard, he had failed to hear M’s office door open. He was unsure in that moment why he had done it, but he paused to take in the sight. A rather pleasing sight were he completely honest with himself…

So absorbed in his covert study of his young Quartermaster, he failed to notice the stealthy paws of Winston, sneak past his legs and spring to life at the presence of a new person. He bound up in front of the oblivious man and leapt up against his knees. Q was so surprised, he jumped a half-foot in the air and stumbled backwards, losing his grip on his iPad and the balance of his feet in the same motion. Equally as quick, and purely on instinct, M moved forward to catch the stumbling body before it collided with the floor, wrapping one arm around his waist to break his fall while the hand of the other caught the Pad.

Q froze.

M froze.

It was in that moment, Moneypenny materialised with their lunch.

* * *

“Well. That wasn’t at all embarrassing,” mumbled Q, the remnants of a blush still colouring his cheekbones. He fumbled between his rescued iPad and fiddling with his glasses. Q looked at M over his glasses. “You appear to be enjoying my discomfiture. You and your… Hound of the Baskervilles,” he said, eyeing the animal who was sitting innocently in his basket, tail thumping happily as though he had successfully completed a mission to cause him mortifying embarrassment.

M slipped his hands into his trouser pockets and shrugged with a smile. “Am I to be reprimanded for saving my Quartermaster’s dignity?”

Q humphed. “But at what cost? I’ll never hear the end of this from your PA,” he said, throwing his hands dramatically in the air before flopping down resignedly on the comfy chair opposite M.

“Well, look on the bright side, Q.”

“Oh really. There’s a bright side, Sir.”

“At least she had her hands full and couldn’t get her Smartphone camera out quick enough to capture the moment for posterity.”

Q had to concede that.

“And frankly, if she wants my job, she’s going to have to be nice to me,” he said, reaching for the bag Moneypenny had placed on his desk to extract their lunch boxes.

Q gave a lopsided smile. “You shouldn’t joke about things like that, Sir.”

M didn’t halt with his unwrapping task. “Who said I was joking?” The smell hit the empty-stomached genius and he failed to stifle the grumble in his stomach. M pretended he didn’t notice. Until he didn’t.

“Interesting fact about the human body, Q.  Your belly isn’t just that place where food goes. It’s actually at the centre of all body systems and its health can influence how we feel and react to stress,” he said casually, handing Q a box of noodles with a fork. “Unable to make cognitive thoughts certainly, but it accounts for how we sense, how we intuitively feel about a situation or environment and the vibes we get from people, an important survival mechanism.” 

“In that case, 007 must have done about 99% of his thinking with his gut then,” pointedly ignoring the aim of M’s observation. He waited for his superior to dig into his own food before helping himself. “Did you get me here under false pretences, Sir? To feed me?”

“Not at all, Q,” he replied, pulling a file in front of him and waving it, “we will be discussing your staff. I’ve had the future M, of course, keeping a surreptitious eye on all my departments. The buck stops in this office as it were, so it’s in my best interests to have third party, objective input.”

“Hmmmm,” mumbled Q, through a mouthful of noodles. Swallowing, he said, “at least now we know who watches the watchmen. I’m glad she’s on our side…”

M chuckled. “Indeed. Now,” he said, all businesslike, “I know you’ve got the tech side all sown up, Quartermaster, but let’s talk about keeping the human element of Q Division in tiptop working condition. Queen and Country depends upon it…”

* * *

An hour later and they were done. Grudgingly, Q had to admit to himself it was worth the effort. The man had a knack for people, unusual in one that had been so entrenched in military service, but as they talked, M had somehow managed to coax Q out of his own head and into that of his staff. _Bit of a fucking charmer truth be told_ , Q mused to himself, moving the chess piece he’d had his eye on before that blasted dog had nearly given him a double coronary, the second one being a result of landing in his superior’s arms… _Very nice arms actually_ , now that he recalled the feel of them around his waist. Q mentally slapped the lurch and twist in his second brain for its treachery before turning towards the door.

He gave Eve a narrow-eyed threatening glare before leaving the office. “I swear, Moneypenny, if I hear even a murmur…”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Really, Q. I have a reputation to maintain," an unmissable tease in her tone. "I mean, who on earth, never mind in this building, would believe I caught the Head of MI6 and our adorable Quartermaster locked in a hot embrace?”


	6. Chapter 6

“Q asked me to pop these reports in to you on my way home, Sir?”

“Thank you,” he said, gesturing with a nod for her to drop them on his desk. “Everything well in your department, R?”

“Oh yes, Sir,” she fidgeted slightly, a tell of hers M recognised as a need to share something on her mind.

“Something you wish to share, R?”

She took a deep breath. “The Quartermaster’s wonderful. Best thing to happen to Q-Branch in an age…”

M simply folded his hands on the desk in front of him and waited.

“He’s working himself into the ground. Been really good with us lately. Seems to have developed a roster this last week that beats anything, gives us more time with our families while not compromising the productivity or stability of Q Division. You wouldn’t know it unless you were looking for it…”

M raised a hand and smiled. “I’ll have a word.”

R breathed a small sigh of relief and nodded.

“Dismissed.”

* * *

Q slumped. He seemed to be doing that a lot these days. The dynamic of the Double O division had shifted since Bond’s departure and not necessarily for the better. Q surmised that when 007 was around, all the other agents could target their hate at him. Well, hate’s a strong word. Envy might be better. It was imperceptible to all but those with the keenest eyes, namely, M, Q and Moneypenny, that Bond was just a cut above the rest. He could take risks and get away with the consequences of said risks and his colleagues were more than happy to let him have at it, in the hopes he would crash and burn. Now he was gone, the other agents were trying subconsciously to fill that void. It meant Q was having to work with double intensity on each and every mission he ran to keep the cocky bastards in line.

That said, 009 was hardly the worst of the lot. He signed off with the agent and removed his headset, rubbing his palms across his face. The move served to remind him of the tension in his shoulders. It was time to clock off for the evening, but perhaps indulging in the pool might loosen the kinks before he went home.

* * *

“Moneypenny?” Mallory poked his head around his door.

“Yes M,” she replied, looking up from her laptop. “Could I impose on your very accommodating nature to keep an eye on Winston while I go for a swim?” he asked, the puppy bounding out into her office on hearing his name.

“A pleasure, Sir,” she smiled, reaching into her drawer and pulling out a biscuit. Mallory shook his head. Nothing he said would prevent her from spoiling him a little. He glanced at the chessboard and made a decision. “And can you pop the chessboard in my office when you have a moment? Don’t want to risk the other agents getting any ideas,” he said. Moneypenny nodded, distracted by the adorable wet nose against the back of her hand.

M grabbed his bag from the other side of the door, and with a parting “See you both in an hour,” he headed to the gym.

* * *

The pool was quiet. It was after 7pm and only two others were taking lengths when Q slipped into the water. He soon got into a gentle rhythm, meditative almost, and he allowed himself to relax and the strains of the past few weeks to melt away from his body. He was on his seventh lap when he noticed another body appear in the shallow end of the pool.

 _Who the hell is that?_ He thought distractedly. _Must be a Double O. No MI6 desk jockey deserves to be sporting abdominals like that…_

He refocussed on his stride as he hit the wall and didn’t intend to pause, coming up for air before he was about to push off for his eighth length. He faltered when the owner of the abs spoke. “It’s gratifying to see you taking a break from your Q Branch duties,” M’s distinct diction penetrating his brain.

Q recovered his senses quickly. His heart was pounding. _From the exertion of exercise. Obviously,_ he thought to himself. Q plonked his feet on the watery tiles and removed his googles. “It’s been a rough few weeks, Sir. What with all the additional Spectre cage-rattling in the aftermath of Blofeld’s capture.”

“Indeed,” he replied with a sigh, tipping his head back against the edge of the pool and closing his eyes. “My predecessor was right about one thing.”

“Sir?”

He tilted his head to look at the young man. “Our world is not more transparent now, she said, it’s more opaque. It’s in the shadows. And that’s where we must do battle.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Sir.”

He took a breath and slipped on his own googles. “All ready for Washington next week, Quartermaster?”

Q groaned inwardly. There were some aspects of his job he’d happily throw to the wolves.

“Just crossing the eyes and dotting the tees to do, Sir. I look forward to presenting our findings and the latest tech used to locate Spectre agents and Blofeld’s accomplices.”

“Excellent,” M replied. “They’ve been one step ahead of us for far too long. Hopefully, closer collaboration between American and British Intelligence means we can get ahead of the game for once.” He pushed off the wall then, his watery wake lapping against Q’s chest.

Twenty four hours in Washington with his superior officer. _I’m the fucking Quartermaster for fuck’s sake. I’ll cope,_ he thought to himself, resuming his own laps. Neither man spoke to each other for the duration of their recreational reprieve, though the thoughts now occupying their minds probably weren’t really appropriate for sharing anyway…


	7. Chapter 7

**Washington, Five Days Later**

“....so, in conclusion gentlemen, I think we can confidently say that the Double O programme in conjunction with the continued developments in a next generation Q Division will ensure the timely and cannot-come-too-soon demise of the enemies of your state and ours.”

The CIA’s Assistant Director was looking at Q with a grudging admiration. Americans, even those involved in intrigue and espionage, weren’t a patch on the schooled British demeanour, thought Q to himself. Mallory, of course, remained unreadable as ever.

The AD leaned forward. “Tell me, young feller. What would it take for me to get you to defect to our side?” Schooled or not, Q was ill-accustomed to such direct flattery and compliments so the faint blush that coloured his cheeks could not be tamped down.

“You couldn’t afford me Sir.” The AD raised an eyebrow and Mallory couldn’t stifle his chuckle before saying, “and of course, you’d have to get through me first, Luke,” he said, keen gaze holding Q’s own.

“You damn Brits. Too loyal for your own good!” He slapped the conference table with the flat of both hands and stood. “Anyway that’s enough of all that. Let’s catch some grub. I’m famished.”

* * *

It was late when they left the restaurant. Their escort detail back to the hotel were waiting patiently by the entrance. Mallory and Q said their farewells to their dinner companions and counterparts and climbed into the car.

“I’d say that went exceptionally well,” said Mallory plainly. “Congratulations Q. You seem to be as good at building bridges as you are at constructing weapons.”

Q pushed his glasses further up his nose. “You give me too much credit, Sir.”

“Hardly. You impressed them. I thought I was going to have a fight on my hands with their AD to save you from their clutches.”

But Q wasn’t listening. He was staring out the window at the buildings flowing by. He searched the catalogue in his memory banks and pulled out his phone, typing a quick message. Mallory felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and opened the screen. The message was brief and to the point. And from Q.

_Don’t react. This is not the agreed route to the hotel._

Mallory, face impassive, sent a quick text to his US counterpart and pocketed the phone. He remained silent for a few minutes more, before he leaned forward and tapped the dividing glass. Q remained stock still on the other side of the seat. The window slid open.

“Yes, Sir?”

Mallory’s voice was soft and unthreatening when he spoke something unintelligible. The “agent” on the passenger side leaned his head further forward and it was that moment Mallory struck, laying a ruthless jab to the side of his face. Momentarily dazed, the driver was quick to react, pulling his gun from his shoulder holster, but Mallory had already reached through the window, grabbing the gun which went off, putting a whole in the passenger agent’s thigh. The driver hit the brakes, throwing all the car’s occupants off balance. In the scuffle with their potential captors, the gun had come loose from the driver’s grip and fallen into the car well at his feet. As he scrambled to recover it, Mallory reached through the gap once more and bounced his head thrice of the steering wheel. Within seconds, Q and Mallory noticed three unmarked cars were surrounding them.

M sat back with a slump and then leaned over to check Q. “Are you alright?” he asked, breathless but concerned.

Q nodded. “That was really very impressive, Sir…”But he couldn’t say more as doors were flung open and the men in the front dragged bodily from the vehicle and pushed to the ground while Q and Mallory were bundled into another car and whisked away into the night.

* * *

They were deposited in another hotel with a fresh security detail posted at their doors. Q was discarding his pullover and loosening his tie when a soft knock landed on the door adjoining their rooms. He opened it to reveal a dishevelled looking Head of MI6, sans jacket and holding two tumblers of brandy. He extended one to Q, who took it gladly. Raising it in a gesture of a toast, he muttered, “To survival.” Q smiled and clinked his glass, turning and giving him access to the room. He perched silently on the side of the bed and Mallory, without thinking took a seat next to him. Adrenaline levels hadn’t recovered just yet and Q’s hand was shaking slightly as he sipped his drink. Mallory reached out to take hold of his wrist.

“Are you alright, Quartermaster?” he asked softly. Their eyes met. And locked.

The next thing they knew, the tumblers had dropped to the carpeted floor and Mallory’s lips were locked hard with Q’s.

* * *

Realising the monumentally inappropriate way he had conducted himself, Mallory hastily beat a retreat back to his own room without a word. Q however, was having none of that. He allowed a few minutes for his racing pulse to centre itself before opening the door to his room. Mallory was sitting on the edge of his bed, jacket still discarded but otherwise clothed, looking somewhat out of sorts. His expression one of pain warring with desire, watched Q walk across the room from the adjoining door to stand in front of him. Q took the initiative, removing his clothes down to boxers, and moved to kneel in front of him. Mallory allowed himself the barest of flinches when Q laid strong, firm hands gently on his thighs and glided his palms up. He shuffled forward, taking one of Mallory’s hands in his own and pulling the unresistant limb towards him. Slowly, he traced the man’s thumb along the swell of his lower lip before taking it into his mouth and circling it smoothly with his tongue. Mallory’s physical response was not to be denied, Q’s glance fluttering down with a small knowing smile that caused a clench in his stomach. Q was watching him carefully, reading the cues and not pushing. Mallory’s length was now pressed straining against his trousers, trapped and hard against Q’s bare, slender chest. He closed his eyes and took a calming breath. Q leaned forward to bridge the remaining few inches that separated them to press a gentle kiss to his throat and a nuzzle beneath his jaw. Mallory instinctively responded with a downward tilt of his head and his lips collided with those of his Quartermaster. The kiss was soft and tentative for several long seconds.

And then it wasn’t.

“Damn it, Q,” he murmured hoarsely against his mouth.

Mallory's senses burst into life and he grabbed Q’s upper arms, hauling him onto the bed to lay flat on the mattress. He climbed over him and proceeded to consume him as a man too long deprived of water would his first drink.

Q couldn’t hide his delight when they broke apart briefly to catch breath. “You’re a quick study,” he said, rendered slightly breathless by the sudden change in dynamic.

“Only when the subject matter is particularly enthralling, Q,” he whispered against slightly parted lips, pressing his still clothed body against the full length of Q’s, creating a friction simultaneously thrilling as it was maddening.

“Gareth…” whispered Q, smiling against his lips.

“Jonathan…” It had been some years since Q had heard another human being utter his real name. And from the lips of Gareth Mallory, it sounded like a promise and a prayer.

* * *

Q sat up and looked at the deep indent in the pillow, where his head had pushed firm only hours before while his body arched into the caress of Mallory’s mouth and hands; the screwed up edges of the sheet he had gripped mercilessly in the night as he fought back his approaching climax in an effort to prolong the pleasure; and down at the scrunched-up fabric at the bottom of the bed, when his heels had pressed hard, toes curling with unabashed lust. He sighed at the sight of those hollow indentations, holding the memories of last night’s encounter. He tensed slightly when he felt the man behind shuffle into a sitting position, moving to drape his chest across Q’s back and his thighs over the side of the bed, either side of Q’s own.

“Regrets?” Mallory’s voice rumbled against his shoulder.

“None,” he said, managing to keep the rueful from his answer.

The physical and intellectual attraction that had been building between them over the intervening weeks manifested into a mind-blowing sexual encounter was obviously mutual and had taken them both by surprise, but the men that they were and the positions that they held, both knew regrets were a waste of time.

“What time is it?” Mallory queried, voice still rough with sleep and the sound of it doing little to tamp down Q’s own early morning erection. He leaned to the side to grab his glasses and his watch. “Just after 6am.” M gently took the watch from his hand and placed it back on the bedside table.

“Good,” he said, dragging him bodily backwards under the sheets again, “Still mine for a little longer then…” before stealing the breath of any protest from the man’s lips.

Not that Q had any intention of putting up a fight.


	8. Epilogue

**Three weeks after Washington**

Winston was sleeping peacefully in his basket. It was late in the day and the usual weekly meet up in M’s office for their chess game was held in silence. They hadn't mentioned their liaison in Washington since. It was business as usual and Q was gratified that nothing seemed to have changed in the dynamic of their working relationship. If anything, the respect had only grown, though the mutual attraction continued to simmer gently beneath the surface.

No regrets they both had said. Both had meant it.

Q leaned forward to advance his bishop. It was only when he looked up from the game, he realised that M had been watching him, though for how long he couldn’t say. He felt the beginnings of a creeping blush radiate from the hollow of his throat. He swallowed when M’s eyes glanced down to observe its advance.

“Check.”

M’s gaze returned lazily to the board to study the pieces. He didn’t look at Q when he spoke. “It could be argued that men like us don’t get to have lives, Q. Military Intelligence _is_ our life.” His hand hovered over a piece and moved to divest the board of Q’s bishop.

“But as important as this aspect of my life is to me, I don’t wish it to be the only thing of importance.” Q’s look of confusion at the comment gave the man cause to smile. M then slid an A4 sheet across the desk towards Q, gesturing with a look for him to read it.

Q did. His mouth went dry. He swallowed in an effort to generate words from his throat.

“You realise I’ll have to clear this with Alan,” was all he could manage.

“Of course,” Mallory murmured, smiling. “The highest authority in MI6 deserves to be informed after all.”

M stood then and, laying his own King down on its side, walked around the desk to pull Q to his feet. The kiss that followed was reciprocal and unhesitant, Q wrapping his fingers around the back of Mallory’s neck while they gentle explored each other once more. He leaned back and allowed himself to drink his fill of the man before him. The paper informing M of the approval he had requested to pursue a relationship within MI6, momentarily forgotten.

“Best of three?” Q smiled.

Let the games begin.

END


	9. Bonus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't resist adding a little bonus feels to MallQry.

**Three Weeks Later**

Mallory’s car dropped him off at his residence late, or early morning rather. It had been a long day, but then most were in his job. He entered the lift to his top floor apartment, rolling his shoulders back as he hit the floor button, tense from the day’s stresses. It had been only three weeks since he and his Quartermaster had “officially” begun their relationship and they had seen each other four times over the course of that period. Come to think of it, he had seen just as much of the Oversight Committee, determined to keep an even closer eye on his performance. The lift reached its destination and he exited, his apartment the only one on that level. He slipped his keycard in the door and entered. Truth be told, he was really too old for such romantic notions… He slipped off his jacket and hung it by the door. But…

His Quartermaster had him completely enamoured, professionally and personally. He loosened his tie while walking towards the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water, his thoughts still occupied with Q. Q, the prickly and thoroughly pedant at work, and the other side of the same coin, Jonathan, passionate and sensual when released from the confines of their secretive world, free to explore and revel in the sensations experienced beneath each other’s hands. He pushed further open the bedroom door, left slightly ajar, a tentative welcome if he wanted to join his young lover or not, if the day had proved too exhausting and the spare room next door was preferable.

The fact of the matter was, Mallory was powerless to resist the solid but delicate press of the young man against him on waking up in the morning light. Mallory stood at the door of his master bedroom and took a moment to enjoy the sight of his Quartermaster draped across his mattress, the top sheet wrapped toga-like around his waist, gentle but deep breathing rising and falling his pale smooth back. Q didn’t sleep for a long each night, four to five hours at most, but when he did he slept like the dead. Mallory undid the top few buttons of his shirt as he sat down carefully on the edge of the bed. Gently, he laid the flat of his palm in the small of the slumbering man’s back, marvelling and inwardly delighting at the smoothness, gun-metal smooth and soft, unblemished. He allowed his hand to drift upwards along the bumps of his spine to rest on the nape of his neck and bestowed a gentle caress. The man stirred and rumbled muffled words into the pillow.

“I’m sorry, Jonathan. I didn’t mean to wake you,” whispered Mallory, not stalling the loving touch against his neck. Q moaned. But it was not the moan of the complainer, more the compliant. He rolled onto his back, displaying himself, still half asleep but open, sensual and wanting. He gave Mallory a lazy smile through sleepy eyes. “Yes. You did,” he mumbled affectionately through a yawn. He raised himself up on an elbow and grabbed the front of Mallory’s shirt, pulling the unresistant man forward for a warm, open-mouthed kiss.

He lay back again. Now wide awake. “Why are you still wearing clothes? Remove those offending articles immediately,” he said primly.

Mallory’s laugh was low but full of promise. “God, I love it when you’re bossy.” He reached beneath the sheet without any preamble and ran a firm grip down his length. Q’s eyes went wide with surprise before he tossed his head back. Mallory instantly took advantage of the move and laid a series of soft possessive kisses along the length of that throat. “You’re." Kiss. "Utterly." Another. "Captivating.”

“Well. Don’t tell the Head of the other Counterintelligence agencies, will you. Or they’ll all want one.”

Mallory found himself chuckling softly once again. He’d laughed more these last few weeks than he had in a long time. “I have absolutely no intention of sharing this, you, us with anyone. Rest assured.”

“Rest isn’t really top of my agenda right now,” his breath shortening, becoming rapid and ragged in response to Mallory’s increasing pace. It wasn’t long before the tight coil in his stomach released and the warmth spread throughout and radiated from his body. Mallory watched the play of emotion across his features, Q’s eyes locking with his own in the moment his climax took him over the edge. Mallory lay down beside him, still clothed, but incredibly content.

“Welcome home…” whispered Q, with a cheeky, sated smile.

Mallory smiled. _Home. Yes_ he thought, wrapping strong, sure arms more firm around Q's waist.  _I suppose now it is. Once again._

It seems a man can indeed live twice.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Added MallQry feels. 
> 
> I make no apologies! :)

Q really, REALLY enjoyed the 3am lull; that hour between shift changes in Q Branch. An hour of Zenlike peace where nothing interrupted his thoughts and the only sounds to be heard were either the gentle tap of his laptop keys, the clink of metal-on-metal or the purrs of a black-and-white furball while he lounged draped across the only unoccupied space on his workbench.

He glanced up when he heard the unexpected sound of a door open and close outside his workroom. His office door by the sounds of it. He frowned. Given he was always careful to lock the room when he wasn’t in there, it made him a tad wary. He grabbed a screwdriver from the workbench and left his work station. Pressing his back against the wall, he quietly edged his way towards the room. He reached for the doorknob, took a deep steadying breath and flung it open, waving the tool wildly and screaming like a banshee. When no attack was forthcoming, he risked opening his eyes, which to be fair, he had subconsciously screwed shut, not wishing to bear witness to his own demise.

Though the resulting flush of embarrassment that flooded his cheeks when he was greeted with the sight of Gareth Mallory reclining on the sofa in the corner of his office, looking thoroughly amused, kind of made him wish it had been an enemy intruder.

“Oh. It’s you. Sir,” he said sheepishly, dropping the screwdriver to his side and rubbing his forehead distractedly with his other hand.

Mallory stood up and walked over to Q, reaching behind him to push the door shut and clicking the lock while taking the tool from his hand and placing it on the chair next to the door.

“Working too hard again, Q?”

He sighed. “Maybe a little overworked, yes Sir,” he said, opening his eyes to look at the man only inches from his face. He took a step back, feeling conscious of the fact they they were still on a professional footing, and was surprised when Mallory mirrored the move, trapping him against the shut door.

Q took in a sharp breath. “Sir. We agreed. We wouldn’t—“

“I know what we agreed, Q.”

But the man seemed undeterred, even when Q turned his face to the side. He closed his eyes when he felt Mallory’s lips ghost against his temple, hands now caressing either side of neck with gentle restraint.

“I’ve been called to Tokyo. ASAP.” He moved his body closer still. “We haven’t seen each other for four days.” Q turned his head to face him then. “I was looking forward to dinner with you tonight…”

They kissed.

Q broke the contact after a few long, delicious seconds. “We shouldn’t…”

“You’re right. We really shouldn’t,” whispered Mallory, taking him gently by the forearms and steering them back towards the couch.

“Oh fuck it,” mumbled Q, pushing Mallory’s jacket off his shoulders and making short work of his tie and shirt buttons before the back of his legs even hit the edge of the couch. The intensity of the kiss left them both breathless, hardly breaking contact while Mallory undid Q’s trousers and Q rather helpfully slipped off his shoes before he pulled his Quartermaster onto his lap to sit astride his thighs.

“We absolutely cannot, should not, must not make a habit of this.”

“Agreed,” grunted Mallory against his lips, just as tongues began a brief battle for dominance and Q freed the man from his own trousers. Q was too preoccupied with his arousal to notice the slick fingers behind him and between them, allowing Mallory free purpose to manoeuvre his hips and slide him down with tender and excruciating slowness. The brief moment of pain was chased away by Mallory’s warm mouth exploring a flushed chest. “I won’t see you for another three days,” he whispered hoarsely. “Such a situation is entirely unacceptable,” he finished, closing his eyes and resting his head back against the back of the couch, surrendering himself to the feeling of the gentle but purposeful undulation of his Quartermaster’s hips against his own.

“Entirely unacceptable,” breathed Q through a smile. Now completely relaxed and quite in control of their position, Q leaned back, adjusting the angle to allow Mallory to slide even further into his willing body. He risked a glance down at his superior officer, who was looking at him with something akin to worshipfulness. Q quickened his pace, and Mallory couldn’t restrain the groan of pleasure. “I know you have a plane to catch, Sir. I wouldn’t want to keep you,” his voice laced with mischief. He moved his hips faster still, abandoning his own body to the completion of their mutual pleasure.

 _“God…”_ choked out Mallory. “I must say, I do so adore your dedication to a task, Quartermaster.”

In other circumstances, if Q hadn’t been so far lost in the moment, he would have stopped and tortured the man for a little longer for the cheek of the comment. Instead he opted for saying, “Less of that lip, _Sir._ Or you’ll be sleeping in Alan’s basket for the rest of the month…”

The laugh that bubbled from Mallory resulted in an involuntary flexing of the muscle currently exploring the inner walls of the Quartermaster’s arse, taking both men by surprise and causing a sudden and unexpected early cresting of the pleasure bringing them both to climax.

“Jesus,” whispered Q, breathless in his ardour as he flopped forward, sweaty and debauched against Mallory.

“I’m starting to suspect you’re in league with our enemies and are determined to kill me, Q,” he said, equally breathless into a semi-shirted shoulder.

“I’ll be sure to ensure you have fun finding out one way or the other, Sir,” he gasped through a giggle.

Being snared by a beautiful genius certainly came with benefits.


	11. Bonus Bonus Feels

Q’s thumb hovered over the SEND button on his phone. It was a little risky. Mallory could be in any manner of compromising situations and this little act of defiance could compromise him even more.

He smiled to himself, running a hand down his chest towards his groin and hit green.

He lay back against the pillow and closed his eyes.

But the consequences could be delicious.

* * *

**36 Hours Later**

Mallory walked into Moneypenny’s domain and conveyed his customary greeting.

“Welcome back, M. How was Tokyo?”

“Terrifically dull, Miss Moneypenny. Six hours of four grey walls and semantics. Never mind. It was worth it to set minds at rest that the new Head of British Foreign Intelligence is as capable as his predecessor.”

“No saving graces? Not even the food…?”

“Oh the cuisine was marvellous, though I must admit my palate is designed for something distinctly more—“

“Ah. Welcome back, Sir.”

“—traditional…”

M turned to be met by his Quartermaster.

“You requested an update as soon as you got back, Sir. Regarding the software upgrades?”

M did a damn fine job keeping his features expressionless, his eyes locked with Q’s and resisting the urge to wander down to his mouth. His thoughts jumped to the encrypted image Q had sent to his phone the day before.

“Thank you for your promptness, Q,” he replied turning away and shirking off his overcoat to hang next to Moneypenny’s.

“Can I trouble you to nip out and grab me some lunch, Eve? I’ve not had the time.”

“Of course, Sir. I’ll take care of that right now.”

“Q,” he said, his back still to the man. “If you’ll join me in my office?”

He followed without missing a beat and headed towards the desk while M closed the door behind them. But instead of sitting on the chair, he propped his backside against the edge of the desk.

He didn’t look at Mallory, displaying an inordinate amount of interest in his iPad screen. So when M stalked up to him, wrestled the Pad from his hands and grabbed his behind to hoist him onto the surface, he gasped. A sound which M immediately swallowed with his own mouth, rough, hungry and decidedly invasive.

Q rocked back with the force of the attack, saving himself by quickly placing his hands behind him to give some leverage. Mallory grabbed his wrists - right hand to right wrist, left to left - and locked his arms behind his back without breaking the kiss, dragging Q forward slightly to press their bodies together.

“Welcome back indeed,” gruffed Mallory, tongue and lips exploring what little skin and rapidly heating flesh was available to him about the collar of Q’s shirt.

Q squirmed in delight.

“Sir,” he gasped again. “Please… Moneypenny will be back shortly,” he groaned out. Mallory merely returned his attention to those decadent lips for a few long seconds before breaking away and releasing his hold.

“Quite,” he said, rounding the desk to take his chair while Q straightened himself out before the appearance of his PA. He’d never live _that_ down if Moneypenny thought any shenanigans were being indulged under her very nose.

“Let that be a lesson to you Q.”

Q smiled. “I thought it was quite a tasteful photo. Give you something to look forward to on the flight back.”

“Oh I won’t deny it was tasteful and I’m looking forward to getting you home for a re-enactment. However, it is ill-timed when one is sitting next to a Japanese diplomat and you cause one to nearly choke on his sushi.”

Q blushed and laughed just as Moneypenny entered with lunch.

“I hope sushi is acceptable, gentlemen?” she blustered.


End file.
